


Touched by an angel

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [83]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angels, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29978658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: She claims to be his guardian angel. Jaime knows better than to take her word.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [83]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60





	Touched by an angel

**Author's Note:**

> Don't expect much of a plot. This is just some sugary fluff I cooked up at lunch break.
> 
> Also, this is not based on any real-world religion. For the purpose of this story I have assumed the Faith of the Seven believes in angels.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”

Jaime is sure he’d secured the locks last night before sleeping. He’s also certain he’s not imagining her or that he’s dreaming this.

His guest - rather, a trespasser - the woman who doesn’t look like one uncrosses her legs and gets up from the couch. “I’m your guardian angel.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” One of Tyrion’s jokes probably.

“An angel.” She pierces him with striking blue eyes that seem to find nothing else to cut through. “Haven’t you heard of them—”

“I have,” he stops her. “Now why don’t you tell me how you managed to get in—”

“I don’t need doors to get in, Jaime.” 

“You know my name too!” He exhales violently, a bunch of expletives lurking at the tip of his tongue, waiting to slip out. “Nice one, but it’s not that difficult to find out—”

“Your mother sent me to watch over you,” she explains, but it all sounds far from that - a load of rubbish. His mother died decades ago giving birth to Tyrion.

“You’re an angel.”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.” He picks up the intercom, ready to call security as soon as her cover is blown. “Show me some magic—” he vaguely recalls some random show he’s seen as a kid “—wave a wand or something—”

“I’m your guardian angel, not your fairy godmother.” Does she look a bit… _upset_ _?_ “I entered a locked home. Isn’t it proof enough?”

She could’ve picked the lock. All it takes is some non-magic skill. “If you can’t work spells, what can you do?”

“I can _see_ things.” Is he imagining things or is there really an aura of mystery around her? From the outside, she looks like a normal woman - well, not really _normal_ , since most women are way shorter than this six-foot-three tower he’s staring at. And they _look_ like women.

“Let me prove it.” She closes her eyes as if meditating for a few seconds, then directs them to him again. “If I were you, I wouldn’t take your usual route to work today.”

“You’re not _me_ , and I’m not listening to you.” He looks her up and down - those broad shoulders, the thick waist, her unladylike stance. “Angels are pretty, and they’re supposed to be able to do magic, so even if I happened to be a believer, I wouldn’t fall for the ridiculous idea that you’re one.”

A beep on his watch tells him he’s running late, and he heads for the kitchen, calling out on his way. “Whoever you are, lady, I want you gone by the time I make myself a cup of coffee.”

When he returns to the living room five minutes later, she isn’t there.

Good riddance. He doesn’t have to hassle himself with chucking her out.

+++++ 

When he starts the car, the strange woman’s advice returns to him. Just to prove a point, he wants to stick to his routine, but a flash in his head tells him to avoid the Kingsroad and re-route.

“Angel!” Every now and then he looks into the mirror. Nah, she can’t just materialize on his back seat. “Such a relief she’s gone.”

But those blue eyes linger in his mind. For some reason, he can’t get them off his thoughts. Switching on the radio for a distraction, he tunes into the news channel.

“ _A major accident occurred on the Kingsroad ten minutes back,_ ” he's stunned to hear the presenter say. “ _Due to an unfortunate bridge collapse, several vehicles have been crushed…_ ”

She elaborates the bloody details of the damage and the casualties, but Jaime is barely listening. He looks out of the window, shaken. 

_That could’ve been me._

+++++

“I thought you'd have left.”

“I thought I got your morning prediction right.” Feet resting on his center table, she’s sitting on his couch like this is her house. “And I can see that you still don’t believe me.”

“You could be a fortune-teller,” he thinks aloud. “You just got it right by fluke—”

“Let’s try it again then,” she says coolly. “You’re going to have trouble with someone at work.” She’s staring into the distance, as if watching some screen he can’t see. “Someone plotting behind your back.”

“Impossible.”

“I’d watch out if I were you,” she warns again. “After what happened years back to tarnish your reputation—”

“How do you know about Aerys Targaryen?” A little stretch of his brain cells has him figuring it out himself. “A leak, probably. It’s not that difficult to dig out the dirt on someone like me.”

“You wouldn’t want to take a chance.”

He peers deeply into those eyes. There’s no deceit, no vested interest nor any sign of malice. “Why are you after me—” He doesn’t even know her name.

“Brienne,” she says, reading his mind, and it feels awfully weird. “Joanna and I have a pact. To keep you safe.”

“If you keep bringing up my mother—”

“She loves you,” Brienne quietly tells him what he already knows, but Jaime can feel a pull in her gaze. It’s almost as if he can feel his mother’s presence in the room. “She wants you to be happy, Jaime.”

+++++

“Pia, could you email the presentation to me for another review, please?”

Jaime cannot pin-point why, but something, he can feel, is amiss with the proposal he’s prepared for Iron Bank. When he pours through it, he notices a few key details to be out of place, a few numbers manipulated - seemingly minor changes he wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t run through it with a fine-toothed comb.

He calls his receptionist again. “This is not the version I last edited.” And he’s damn sure these aren’t careless typos he’s left behind.

“Mr. Baelish requested for it last night,” Pia informs him. “Said he wanted to make some cosmetic changes.”

 _Baelish._ So neatly done at the last minute so that people would be too busy to notice - who else could it have been?

He sighs heavily into the phone. “Why didn’t you ask me first?”

“Oh, he told me he’d already discussed it with you.”

Liar and a saboteur. What else can one expect from a slimy someone like him?

+++++

“You saved me a lot of embarrassment,” Jaime reluctantly admits to the woman who should’ve vacated his premises by now. “How did you guess Littlefinger would ruin my chances of this deal?”

“It wasn’t a guess.” Her eyes tell him she’s serious. Innocent and warm and sincere, they are quite appealing, actually. “This is exactly why your mother—”

“Stop pulling my mother into this,” he says hotly. “Look, I don’t know who put you up to this or what you expect from me—”

“Watch out for your girlfriend,” she smoothly switches the subject. “She’s going to be your downfall if you don’t end it before it’s too late.”

If there’s anything that can piss him off in three seconds, it’s people poking their noses into his love life. “Cersei would never wish me ill,” he says vehemently. “She loves me.”

“She loves power, too,” Brienne adds. “More than you.”

Arms crossed to his chest, he glares at her.

“Believe me, Jaime, she’s not the one for you,” Brienne wearily tries to convince him, a shadow eclipsing her freckled face. “I have your best interests in mind.”

+++++ 

Brienne’s emphatic accusation haunts him all night, and on his first tea-break the next morning, he decides to bring up something that has been nagging him.

“Remember that offer to take up my dad’s business?” He was twenty-one, then, young and enthusiastic and eager to get going, and the night before he’d decided to accept the position, Cersei had convinced him to stay back with her at the capital.

Her pretty face is ruined by a frown. “What about it now?”

“Did you stop me from leaving because—”

“I did it because I love you,” she whispers, her hand on his.

+++++

“I told you she loves me.” But Jaime doesn’t feel his usual surge of confidence now.

“She’s using you.” Brienne’s eyes are a complete contrast from Cersei’s. Her soft concern touches him, and if she weren’t a part of a big joke he’s hoping he can soon unearth the source of, he’d have a tough time—

“Be careful, Jaime,” she gently cautions. “I can’t bear to see you heartbroken and—”

“ _You_ can’t bear to?”

“For your mother’s sake,” she whispers, dropping her gaze to the floor.

+++++

“So far all’s good with Cersei,” he tells her out of the blue. “She’s being extra nice to me.”

“That’s because she’s cheating on you.”

The niggling sensation in his chest doubles in intensity. “Now wait, you can’t just hurl allegations like that at her!” 

“Find out for yourself if you can’t believe me,” Brienne snaps back, for no reason, agitated. “And then you’ll see that you’re being blind in what you think is love—”

“It _is_ love,” he roars, his temples throbbing. “I am hers, and she is mine. That is how it has been for years, and that’s how it’ll be.”

“Jaime, _please_ ,” she implores. Why does this feel like this is bothering her personally? And why does _that_ bother him? “Listen to me—”

“Please leave.” Her intrusion is something he can deal with any longer. “I don’t believe in angels, and I most certainly don’t need _you_.” He shuts his eyes, trying to process the huge bomb she’s dropped on him. “If I see you again—” 

When he opens his eyes, she’s no longer there.

_Well, good riddance._

+++++

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” Bronn takes him to a table located at a sparsely populated corner. “It’s about Cersei.”

Jaime gets the feeling he has to brace for an unpleasant storm.

“This proposal you’ve been slogging your ass off for—” his friend leans closer “—there is news she’s been meeting the bosses to convince them she’s more capable to head the project.”

Jaime stares down at his coffee. _She loves power._

“There’s more, I’m afraid,” Bronn goes on in a hushed tone of sympathy. “Tyrion and I saw her sneak into a hotel with Lancel last night…”

+++++

Here he was thinking all day that returning home to his solitude and privacy would be easier than the confrontation and his break up with Cersei. 

“Brienne’s just a joke one of my friends played on me,” he mutters to himself, settling down on the couch and popping open a can of beer. Riding on a little bit of luck, if she thought she could convince him—

But she did disappear into thin air when he wished her away. More than how she did, that he won’t see her again looms large in his mind.

“She had to go,” he reasons with the blank TV screen in front of him. 

He sips his drink, relieved about the days ahead without his unwelcome guest, but seconds later, those blue eyes return to his mind. They don’t have a trace of trickery in them. They _never_ did.

+++++

He wakes just after sunrise, much earlier than his usual. Half expecting to see her again, he walks out to the living room, but all he finds there is silence and emptiness.

_Good riddance._

+++++

Unbidden, his thoughts go out to her when he takes the Kingsroad.

_She saved my life._

When he remembers Cersei’s confession about Lancel, his chest feels like lead.

_She saved me from a heartbreak._

+++++

_Large blue eyes hold him in their gaze. “I came here meaning well for you.”_

_“I know.” He takes her in his arms. “I never should’ve let you go.”_

_“Jaime—”_

_He draws closer, and when he brushes his lips to hers, he knows what it feels like to be touched by an angel._

+++++

The spell breaks when he opens his eyes to an empty room and the first streaks of sunlight. “Come back, Brienne,” he wishes aloud, sighing at the ceiling. “I miss you.”

Brooding about the kiss, he mechanically brushes his teeth, then craving for just one more glimpse of her pretty eyes, drags himself to the living room— 

“You?” 

Rubbing his eyes to make sure he isn’t hallucinating, he tentatively approaches her. “You came back?”

A soft hue of pink highlights her cheeks when she leaves her favourite seat on the couch to meet him half-way. “You called.”

“I did.” He touches her gently on the arm, and when she blinks hard and slowly parts her lips, his free hand finds her waist.

“Why?” she asks, the blush spreading down her neck and further.

“I dreamed of you.”

He kisses her. Deeply. Passionately. When he lets go, he asks those eyes a question.

“Forever,” Brienne replies, with a smile that warms his heart.


End file.
